A Flash of Purple: Prologue

The last thing that Hermione Granger saw as she fell to the cold stone floor was the Death Eater's leer, and a flash of purple. After that everything slowly ebbed and flowed into a wavering black.

Black, and then grey, and finally a white light flickered across the witch's eyes.

Hermione awoke with a gasp, her hands pulling at a crisp sheet that the witch soon realized was covering and pinning the lower part of her body. It took another moment for her to regain her memory and when she did, her eyes flashed open in fear.

They had been ambushed, the witch remembered frantically, it had been a trick.

The memories of curses and imposing figures in black robes and horrid masks unfolded in her mind, making her body jerk. Hermione clutched her hand against the fear that seemed to flow through her, the numb tingling that followed only emphasizing the pain.

And what of Harry, and Ron?

She sat up quickly, her hands out defensively, before a moan was pulled from her throat at the pain that clutched and trembled through her body. Hermione didn't know what had happened to her best friends. The last thing that she remembered was... was a whispered "this is for last time" and dark eyes staring at her...

Is that what he had said, the Death Eater, before laughing and flinging the curse at her. The witch shivered and pulled on the sheets once more before she felt strong hands restraining her. Maybe she was wrong, she couldn't fully remember what had happened. Why would he say those words? It didn't make any sense.

Hermone's head ached as she struggled to stand, only to feel strong hands push her back down.

"Lay down, dear." Someone said as the sound of a finger tapping glass echoed and Hermione relented, falling back into the dark dream-world that seemed to take away the pain as a cool liquid hit her lips.

The witch didn't know how long she had slept, but when she woke again it was to voices speaking insistently. They seemed far off, distant to the witch while she clutched for some form of understanding. Hermione found little comfort in the words that reached her as her mind cleared and the voices became distinct.

"How is she?" A voice, that the witch just couldn't place, hummed near her, the sound wavering in her ear.

"She's struggling. There has been some nerve damage." There was a sigh from a feminine voice, "I will do my best, but this spell- the damage will be, in all likelihood, permanent. I can try-"

"What was the spell?" The first voice interrupted, closer this time, hovering.

"I couldn't tell you, it's nothing like I have ever seen before. They will have to interrogate Dolohov to find out what the effects will be." A silence settled, seeming to stretch on forever before the same voice continued, "But, I can tell you this... if Hermione hadn't silenced him, we would doubtlessly be looking at a dead child right now."

The witch listened to the words, her brain whirring with the information. She had been so close to death, it was only that he hadn't spoken the curse that she was alive. She was so lucky to have...

Hermione's skin crawled as something dawned on her, making her nearly lose her breath.

I didn't silence anyone.

The thought slowly faded away as Hermione felt a cool breeze and then warmth before she drifted into another sleep, a chilling one that grasped her with harsh tendrils and pulled her deep, deep under.

...